Bitter Chocolate
by Charlie Clementine
Summary: This is not a happy feel good story,Wonka and Charlie are working together in the factory when Charlie has a routine visit to a doctor, to investigate his stomach pains.Slash, eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**O**k, While I work on my other story I will update this as well. It will not be long winded, or happy but I'll try to introduce a little slash.

**This is a warning- Do not expect a happy story, Do not expect a happy ending. This doesn't really have a plot, just the description of an event,Charlie (skip down If you don't want to hear the ending, but it is kinda inevitable) will die. **

**D**isclaimer-I do not, onor ever will, own these characters.

**P**lease review, then I know if it's worth pursuing or not.

* * *

The Oompa Loompa tugged at Charlie's black trouser leg, and clasped his fist and hit either shoulder. Puzzled, Charlie returned the gesture of greeting and waited for the message. With Wonka interpreting the odd word (Charlie didn't really manage Loompish yet) he made out the message from his mother, requesting his presence in the Chocolate Room.

Wonka looked proudly at Charlie, now 15 and out of school. He had come along well, and even invented many new candies. But worry lined Wonka's face slightly as he wondered if he had much time left, if he would pass away before Charlie was ready. It was a fear of his, that he would get too old and Charlie would be left with too big a responsibility, but Wonka never gave voice to anhy of his concerns. He was working with Charlie on the precise temperature at which Fudge must be boiled at, to get exactly the right temperature. He had discarded his coat, it was hot in the inventing room and was in his vest and shirt, but his top hat- as ever- remained on his head.

"Mr. Wonka…?"

"Of course, my dear boy. Hop along and come back when you've finished."

Wonka turned back to the work he was absorbed in as Charlie picked his way through the instruments and machines. The Oompa Loompa hurried ahead and pointed to the door, Charlie nodded and thanked him and went through. He smiled as he came upon the Chocolate room, where his house lay in the small flat part between the two back hills. He loved this room, and began walking down. He stopped as he felt a small pain in his stomach. He stopped and kneaded his wiry frame- it had been happening in the last couple of months, sometimes in the night he woke because of it, in a cold sweat.

He had only ever told his mother, he was almost afraid to admit weakness to his idol, Willy Wonka.

He opened the door, which swung lopsidedly sideways and hit the wall. He entered the tilted room he knew so well, a small fire was crackling in the grate and his mother was sitting there, smiling slightly.

"Charlie, dear- I made a Doctor's appointment for your stomach pains, it's in an hour…Is that alright? I made it today, and they had an opening so I thought I may as well"

Charlie nodded faintly. Great, he had hoped to g back and help Mr. Wonka, but he had to go to one of the places he hated most- the doctor's.

His father sensed his disappointment and clapped his hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Don't worry, champ- It's just a checkup. That's all."

Charlie nodded, trying to incense in himself some optimism. He failed, but he hid it well.

"Ok, excuse me for one moment; I have to tell Mr. Wonka." He went out side and emitted his shrill cry to summon and Oompa Loompa. One came rushing to his aid.

"Can you send a message to Mr. Wonka?" Charlie says that he won't be able to come up as soon as planned, He's going to a Doctor for just a small checkup…Make sure Mr. Wonka knows that it's just a checkup, ok? Thank you."

The Oompa Loompa scurried off to do his bidding. Charlie walked resignedly back into the house and followed his kind mother.

Mr. Wonka, still working heard the message and frowned slightly- what could Charlie need a Doctor for? He didn't seem to have any colds of coughs. He nodded absently but as he worked he could not shake from him a sense of worry.

* * *

**T**hat's it for today, but I will say this- Cancer runs in CHarlie's family, that will be examined in the next chapter. So until then, bye!

Thanks,

C. Clementine


	2. Chapter 2

**T**he last happy chapter, but I made a mistake- I accidentally put this second chapter onto a different story, So I'm sorry if this caused confusion. Again, a Disclaimar- I do not own the characters in this story but I made up this plot, If anyone has done something like this previously, I'm sorry. My second fanfic, so be nice when reviewing!

* * *

Charlie sat in the waiting room, anxious to get back to the Factory before Five o'clock, when Wonka would stop the informal lessons. He waited, his mother reading a magazine beside him, for the Doctor to finish the paperwork. Charlie felt, somehow, that there were two worlds- The world of the outside, grey and slow, and the world of the factory, the world he wanted nothing more than to live in. He waited calmly as the Doctor processed information, ticking boxes and signing names. He looked up and smiled slightly.

"The results will be back in about two days, Mrs. Bucket, I'll call you then. Charlie has been brave today…" said the Doctor indulgently; Charlie hated being treated like a child.

"Thank you, Doctor Williams." said Charlie's mother, ushering Charlie out of the cold, grey-white room.

Wonka heard a clanging and Charlie appeared, apologetic. "My dear boy, how did it go? Are you all right? You don't have any… Germs?" Wonka looked at Charlie suspiciously, "Why did it take so long?"

Charlie held out his arm, on the inside of his elbow was a small cotton wool ball, taped to his skin.

"It took a little while because he wanted a blood test…, Sorry Mr. Wonka, but I'm back now. Can we continue?" he said shyly, but Wonka walked forwards and inspected the patch carefully, though reservedly- his germ phobia was as strong as ever. Something wasn't right, thought Wonka, as though it was a half forgotten dream he was trying to remember.

They worked late that night, Charlie wanted to make up the hour and a half he had been away and Wonka never shied away from work. Wonka, as usual, dined with the Bucket family. His mother finally shushed Charlie off to bed and Wonka left the room, spouting praise for the meal Mrs. Bucket had made him and walked outside to the now dark Chocolate room. He slowed, breathing in the warm chocolaty smell that filled his imagination and plans. But he felt something was wrong, something wasn't right. Wonka felt a stab of fear, the usual fear that he would fade away and die before Charlie was ready, that he would never see what would become of the Factory. He pushed that fear out of his mind and strode purposefully towards the Elevator.

Two days later, two of the timeless happy days filled with the heady steam of chocolate and candy that Charlie so enjoyed. He was out collecting some grass with Wonka when his mother received a telephone call from the Doctor.

"Ah yes, Doctor Williams- and what did the tests show?" said Charlie's mother, with the usual slight worry of any mother.

"Ah…some interesting results, I'm afraid that we need to have Charlie back for a scan- There are some little things we'd just like to check out. "

"Oh, I see…nothing serious? I mean, if he needs a scan…"

"Nothing is confirmed yet- probably it will be nothing, just another type of checkup. But the only scan equipment fitted to do this kind of analysis is in this city, which is lucky for you and Charlie, but it will only be available for two more days, as another hospital needs it badly. I wondered if you could bring Charlie down here again and seven o'clock tomorrow?"

She agreed, feeling the first pangs of worry…. Why would Charlie need a special scan? He had never said exactly what was in the results…. She walked out onto the grass meadow and saw, across a rolling hill Charlie and Wonka, mowing the grass with a very strange machine.

* * *

Charlie stepped reluctantly into the white room, and faced the large machine. It scared him somehow, no matter how many assurances came from his mother and the Doctor it would be perfectly painless and not scary at all.

It consisted of a large circular dome that had a bed that obviously was pushed into the chamber. It had beside it a large computer that seemed to spray wires everywhere. Charlie, only in some shorts lay down on the bed. The Doctor smiled slightly, in his grey, tired way, and he saw his mother sitting down and smiling worriedly.

He felt the bed move with and mechanical whirr, he saw his mother's face disappear as he entered the white chamber, swallowing his fear, he forced himself to think of the only calming thing he could. The factory, with his house in the centre, his parents standing there and smiling encouragingly and Willy Wonka beside him- a hand on his shoulder. Whatever happened he knew Mr. Wonka would help him. With that calming thought in his head he stayed still until the scan was over. He climbed out shaking slightly and wanting only to get out of this world and into the warm, happy factory.

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**T**hankyou for reading, and thankyou to the people who review my humble writings- huggles them all

C. Clementine


	3. Chapter 3

**A**gain I begin the next chapter in this tale of woe, I hope you doo not enjoy his suffering but...the writing style? Please review, I need some in writing sad stories.

**D**isclaimer- This is a work of Fanfic, all characters except that lovable Doctor Williams are the property of Mr. Dahl, the Tim Burton film of the book "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and the film company that made it etc, etc.

* * *

Wonka waited in the room he called the office. He did not use it much, and often he was pushed out of the room by Doris, his secretary- But it was the room he often came to look at the city. It lay in front of him. Twinkling and silent. He stood expressionless, wondering why Charlie took so long to go down the road. Wonka's suspicion grew with every passing moment; he was worried about the heir of his factory. He stood still, clasping his cane and looking at the city. Suddenly he was galvanized into action as he saw the great gates at the front open. He rushed down the spiral staircase outside his office, his long evening jacket swirling behind, and his black shoes thudding on the ornate iron stairs. He childishly jumped the last few, almost angry that Charlie had been gone so long.

Charlie walked into the factory and was greeted by the comfortable breeze of warm air, the instant smell of chocolate. He calmed immediately, after a day of sitting alone in white rooms he wanted desperately just to walk around the factory, talking to Mr. Wonka. He needed some insanity to keep him sane, he wanted Mr. Wonka's quirky awkwardness and he wanted to be happy. He met Mr. Wonka rushing towards them, smiling as he slowed and tried to look indignant but Charlie knew Mr. Wonka too well to think he would be reprimanded. He stood in front of his mother and, hoping she would get the idea, lied to Mr. Wonka.

"I'm so sorry it took so long, Mr. Wonka sir. We needed to help someone…help them find …Their keys. And it took longer than expected."

"Well why do you go out there in the first place? You took too long Charlie; don't frighten…the Oompa Loompas again."

He said, trying to keep his feelings at a normal level. Well, normal for him. He looked at Charlie, almost head height by now and examined him. He was lying, but why? He, for the first time Wonka knew about it, was lying. Wonka looked into Charlie's eyes and Charlie looked down, but didn't try to undo his lie. Wonka thought then that it was important, so he decided to drop it.

Charlie gratefully took off his heavy jacket; it was almost the time of year when the city was covered in soft snow. Already there were the first flakes of it. Charlie looked at one, caught on his sleeve, before it melted in the heat of the factory. He frowned slightly then smiled.

"I have an idea…"

Wonka was all ears as he ushered Charlie to the inventing room, completely forgetting the Charlie's mother existed. She made her way to the Chocolate room and greeted her husband.

"The Doctor said he'd call us tonight with the details" she answered to his worried questioning. He nodded and went back inside.

* * *

The next hour proved busy for Charlie, as he jotted down his idea and discussed details with Wonka- the setting temperature, and so forth. Eventually Charlie decided to actually put his plans into action; he got the ingredients ready and began stirring the melting sugar. He felt Wonka walk up beside him and lean on the rail in front of them, stopping them falling into the boiling sugar.

"Where were you really Charlie?" asked Wonka quietly, as though it wouldn't give Charlie a guilty squirming feeling. He looked into Charlie's eyes and for once Charlie didn't look away. A silence settled for a moment, before Charlie looked back to his sugar.

"At the Doctors again. He wanted another test, I don't know. "Wonka turned so that his back was leaning against the rail, looking t the wall, not speaking for a minute. He felt odd, and he didn't like not being able to describe his feelings- of worry, shock and, he found, Love. He pushed it down inside his mind, angrily hiding the feeling away. He said, not looking round,

"The Doctors? Are you alright Charlie? Don't tell me you're bad, I don't want you to have to go to the Doctor's again. I don't like the Doctors- they're like Dentists or …." Willy Wonka's grudge against dentists still remained.

"It's not serious, I told you. Look at me- do I look sick?"

Wonka looked at Charlie, carefully evaluating. Yes, Charlie did look sick; he had lost so much weight, no matter how much Chocolate he tried to feed Charlie, Charlie never seemed to gain any weight. He also looked tired, but Wonka had a habit of overlooking other people's emotions. Wonka sighed and turned away again, before leaving he said,

"Remember to let the Sugar boil for exactly ten minutes at one hundred and twenty two degrees to maintain crystalline structure. Maybe we can surprise you family tomorrow with this new candy. Goodnight, Charlie." He left too quickly for Charlie to reply.

Down in the Chocolate room Charlie's parent waited by the telephone, looking at it almost angrily. It rang; the harsh noise rang through out the almost empty house. They looked at each other and she answered it.

"Hello? Yes, I am….. Yes? Just say it , please…."

Charlie's father looked up anxiously, he could only see her back, she paced worriedly. Suddenly all the life went out of her voice. She said nothing and slammed down the phone, as if it had bitten her. She turned and faced her husband, silent tears falling down her face. He walked forwards, his inside coiling and burning to know what was wrong, he couldn't bear not asking- but she probably wouldn't answer immediately, he told himself. He hugged her, she almost fell into him, she lost al the strength I her body. Eventually her sobs became words; he vainly tried to make them out,

"He's…only my boy, my Charlie….why did it have to be him? Why couldn't I, not him…He's too young…."

Instantly he expected the worst, and it was. The worst. Charlie had received the "gift" of the generations. He shook his head blindly, cradling a sobbing form. He lowered her gently onto a chair. He felt so many emotions, he could not move his face, it felt like acid had been poured down his throat. He breathed deeply.

"Surely it's a mistake, surely they're wrong…"

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OK, next chapter Charlie will find out exactly what's wrong- and so will you, and his new confectionary will be revealed. Bah Bah Baaah 

Thanks for reading, please review if you have time,

C. Clementine


	4. Chapter 4

**T**he usual- Thankyou to the people who have reviewed, Espscially Kristina, who had reminded me again that the anonymous auhtor's block was still on, and encouraged me to continue with this story- Which brings me to the next one- Does anyoen out there know how to disable the Anonymous Author's block for reviews? I've tried and I'm baffled.

**D**isclaimer- I do not own any of these characters, Roald Dahl and Warner Brothers do. Whoo-frikkety-hoo.

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Charlie walked into his house, cheered by the fact that his new candy was successful. He had left it carefully on the bench; it would be the first thing Mr. Wonka would see as he walked in. He came in to find the house deathly quiet, with his mother and father sitting on the couch. His mother's face was stained red with tear marks, she looked so utterly miserable Charlie rushed to them to try to hug them. Charlie's father didn't look much better. His eyes were red and tired; he seemed without the will to live. Charlie stopped and said worriedly 

"Mum…Dad? What's wrong?"

Charlie's mother took a deep breath; she explained in a shaking voice that the scan results had come back. Charlie had a hereditary disease, called cancer, that was in-operable. Charlie shook his head, he didn't believe it. It was impossible. She went on to explain that this kind of disease you couldn't get better from. That Charlie …would die. It was a terminal disease.

Charlie sank back down into a chair; the idea seemed too massive, too huge to take in. He sat there, stunned as he looked down at his body. What was wrong with it? It was sick? Charlie looked up, a tear shining on his face.

"I don't want to die, mum…I don't want to die." She rushed forwards and hugged him fiercely, enveloping him in the calm scent of new clothes and chocolate. He sobbed once, then looked back at his parents. He didn't know how to react to this. Maybe the Doctor was wrong, maybe it wouldn't be right, surely medical science would adapt? Surely…yet somewhere deep within himself he knew that it was inescapable. His visions of the future faltered then crashed to the ground. He would never become the owner of the Factory, he would never spend his entire life alongside Mr. Wonka…he found that he wanted to do that more than anything.

* * *

That night they slept in the big bed in his parent's room. Charlie lay there, between his parents, staring at the roof. Slowly he began to accept this truth. He sat bolt upright suddenly, he knew that no-one was asleep. His mother looked up. 

"Whatever you do, don't tell Mr. Wonka…at all. Please, don't tell him."

"You must tell him sometime, Charlie."

"I will…but not now."

* * *

Wonka strode happily into the Factory, he headed to the inventing room- no Oompa Loompas were about, he supposed that they all had slept in. He opened the door to the room, the vats steaming and the lights whirring on as he flicked the switch. He walked in, seeing that Charlie had left whatever he had been working on. Slowly he approached the desk and a true smiled came upon his face as he saw the new confection. He picked it up carefully and examined it from every angel. He held it up to the light and tapped it lightly. He turned suddenly, wanting to see Charlie. He held the candy absently in his hand as he walked down to the Chocolate room. 

He saw the boat leave, with Oompa Loompas masterfully using the oars to turn down the chocolate river corridor, as the birds outside and inside the factory began singing the Factory wok, as new life spread into it. The lights came on and Wonka walked across the hill. He stopped at a small bush and saw another of Charlie's inventions- one that would never see the shelves of a shop. A small spider hung there, similar to Wonka's earlier bird-candy, its legs curled slightly as the sunshine woke it too. Wonka stooped and watched as it swung to one side and began a new thread of butterscotch sugar, long strands of golden web. It continued on its work, laboriously traveling up and down, in and out. Charlie had left his own touch on the factory, he was gentler than Willy Wonka and preferred to make creatures and moving things out of chocolate.

Charlie was coming down the hill, Wonka couldn't help but notice the deep rings under his eyes and how thin and worn he looked. Wonka tactfully ignored that and straightened up. He held out the snowflake and Charlie smiled slightly. He had worked on that for hours and Wonka nodded, acknowledging that he liked it.

Charlie sat on the grass, Wonka sat with him.

"Have you had breakfast, Charlie?"

nod.

"Brushed your teeth and all that?"

nod.

"Are you ready for a new day?"

nod.

Wonka passed the precious candy to Charlie as a small cricket jumped across the grass –another of Charlie's inventions. It landed on the brim of Wonka's hat, who didn't notice. He looked intently at Charlie, his blue eyes darting here and there.

"Mr. Wonka, I might only be able to work the second half of the day, If that's alright. I feel tired." said Charlie, hoping no more questions would be asked "But if you want me to work than that's fine." He rushed to add, he would never let down Wonka in a moment of need.

"Of course Charlie, I was thinking of taking the first half of the day off anyway. " Wonka reached up and took his hat off, settling into the grass beside Charlie. He brushed the cricket off and sighed, looking at the ceiling when many Oompa Loompas appeared. They performed another song, to which Charlie only half listened. Had he really listened he would have noticed that this song was not happy, not a celebration of life in general but a sad song, without life. He didn't listen to the words, which subtly told Wonka that Charlie needed looking after, he didn't see that they were not dancing with the usual strange styles but almost a beautifully choreographed waltz that turned and intertwined, eventually an Oompa Loompa came to Charlie, holding a small flower.

Charlie took it silently, a tear running down his face. He rubbed it away before Wonka would notice; he didn't want to let Mr. Wonka see him crying. Almost subconsciously he leant into Wonka, seeking support from the small chocolate smelling frame. He felt Mr. Wonka's supporting arm around him.

* * *

The boat halted and Charlie's parent silently got out. They needed to see the Doctor, to try to get him to help them. Charlie only had two weeks left and they wanted to help him in any way. As they sat in the car, driven by two Oompa Loompas, He looked at her. The hair fell over his face messily, he had not combed it as usual and small strands of grey were beginning to sprout among the black. He looked at her with tortured eyes, eyes that carried all the blame for what had happened to Charlie. 

"Why did I do this? It's worse than Charlie thinks, why couldn't I be the one? Just when he discovers how sweet life can be why it is snatched away from him?"

"He now knows that life can actually be sweet, He's got Wonka who looks after him through thick and thin, he loves the Factory….All he wants is for others to be happy. So we're not going to show how upset we are, we're going to help him. He doesn't want us to tell Mr. Wonka, I think he wants to tell him. He's…been..so brave, He's taking it so well…"

She was near tears, sitting in the small grey car, zooming through the dry, white and grey world. She longed for the comfort of the factory.

* * *

Charlie and Wonka sat alone on the hills, wondering why the Oompa Loompas wanted him to care for Charlie today. He saw that Charlie was off in a dream world and was silent, until Charlie looked at him. He met Charlie's eyes and smiled slightly, feeling happy and full of…love? He pushed the thought away again; sure that Charlie would hate him forever if he told him. 

"Ya know what? I think we might take the whole day off. I mean, if you feel tired, we could just take a break, not work today."

"No, I like working. I just need to rest part of the day, Mr. Wonka."

"How many times? Call me Willy." Charlie nodded and forgot, as he usually did.

* * *

**T**hankyou for reading, I did not get round to revealing Charlie's new confectionary, or CHarlie revealing to Wonka that he has terminal disease, BUt that will definatly be next chapter. Please review, I want to find out how you feel about the story etc. And it helps my creative jiuces, which are being cranky at me at the moment. 

**T**hanks again,

C. Clementine


	5. Chapter 5

**H**ello all and welcome to the new chapter. Hopefully you will enjoy, please try to review everyone, I relly enjoy any feedback- good or bad.

**N**ext chapter I promise more cuddly stuff, but this story was only planned to be 7 chapters long.

* * *

Charlie's parents returned at midday, having got confirmation from Doctor Williams of Charlie's conditions. In his mother's hand was clutched a few x-rays and documents, she looked pale and weak.

"Mum, Why don't we let the Oompa Loompas make dinner tonight, you look tired." She nodded slightly and went into the house.

"Come on Mr. Wonka, we'd better get to work."

"Don't you want to show them your new candy?"

Charlie nodded eagerly and held up the confection to the light and said,

"Wait, do you want to see my new candy? I invented it last night!" He ran to them, trying hard to forget the news he had heard last night.

It caught the light and spun the colours; It was the clearest most beautiful form they had seen him make yet. In his hand was a largish sugar crystal snowflake. It had a complex pattern, was as white as the purest snow but seemed to be coloured some how. He gave it to his mother, who took it delicately. It was slightly heavy for something that size, it was slightly smaller than her palm.

"Go on, taste it!"

She took a bite. Far from being sharp and angular it was hard and crumbly, but it held its shape in her mouth. She felt, for the first time since she had picked up the phone, happy. It was a sweet that made you feel happy. The flavours whirled in her head, simple yet subtly creamy, with an almost berry flavour, she couldn't tell which. The center was almost liquid, cool and it flowed over her tongue. She handed the rest to her husband, who also took a bite. He smiled- the age that had crept onto his face seemed to lessen slightly, he held his head higher and clapped Charlie on the back.

The last chocolate he would ever invent was also the best.

* * *

The Elevator sped towards the inventing room, Charlie silent but Wonka chatty. He explained the way they made candy floss, which Charlie had not known before- Mr. Wonka had asked them not to ask about the pink sheep. He was mid rant when he noticed Charlie had sunk to the floor.

"Charlie? Charlie?"

He knelt down as Charlie took deep breaths, clutching his stomach. He looked pale and tired, thin and sick. He clenched his jaw and stood, holding the wall for support. Wonka moved in quickly, knowing the wall of the Elevator not to be the best form of support. He held Charlie's arm and said,

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

* * *

Charlie was working on making more of the snowflakes, each had a different pattern but had the same geometric rule, so that they differed but were the same. He had ten spread out on front of him. Above him, on one of the many levels in the inventing room Wonka was working, silently. Eventually he could bear it no longer and ran down the stairs. His top hat almost flew off, but he held a steady hand over it.

"Charlie, you look so tired…Are you sure you want to continue working?"

"Yes. Oh and tomorrow I have to go to the Doctor's again. More blood tests." Charlie shuddered slightly, he hated needles. Wonka gently took his arm and looked. Instead of the original patch, which Wonka had seen Charlie remove, there were two.

"Something's wrong Charlie. Tell me now."

"Nothing's wrong."

"Charlie…"

Charlie looked down. It was time to break the news to Mr. Wonka, who he knew would take it worse than himself. He had moved into a state of calm disbelief, he was somehow not particularly sad. He just felt an ache, that was not the sickness but a feeling of fear.

"Mr. Wonka…" Charlie sat Wonka down, wondering how to tell him. Wonka sat abruptly and looked at Charlie, his blue eyes darting around Charlie's face in concern.

"There's no easy way to tell you this. I'm…." to say it felt like defeat, like it was actually going to happen but Charlie braced him self, wanting to throw up.

"Going to die. I've got terminal cancer and I don't know when or how long I've got and I don't want to and I don't see how I could go wrong, but I have gone wrong, like I'm broken and I don't know what I did wrong and…"

It came out on a rush; he silenced himself as suddenly as it had started. Wonka let out a nervous laugh,

"Don't joke like that Charlie, It's not funny. Not funny at all."

He got up suddenly, and saw Charlie motionless, his dark hair covering his eyes as he looked at the floor. For the first time in Charlie's memory Wonka became truly angry, and shouted, furiously looking around.

"That's not funny, you are my heir, the heir to my beautiful factory- Charleie don't be stupid. I won't allow it. You. Can't. DIE"

Wonka took up a Snowflake and looked at it, almost wildly. He flung it at the floor where it shattered. Charlie winced as it hit the floor, almost crying.

Wonka picked up another Snowflake and walked out of the door, slamming it behind him. He was shocked and outraged. The cheek of the Doctors, to tell Charlie that he had cancer. He sent the Elevator straight to his room and ran inside, slamming the door shut.

* * *

Charlie returned, pale and shivering, from the Doctor's. He had another cotton pad taped to his arm, on his wrist. He looked radically different- his head was shaved and he was in pain again. He walked feebly to the door of the house, and changed into the clothes the Oompa Loompas had made for him.

Slightly different to Wonka's the suit had a full length jacket of dove-grey, that reached the floor in long elegant swathes. ON it was patterned, in black silk, strange swirls and some Loompa symbols that all seemed to become denser at the base of the coat and the sleeve cuffs, with almost no embroidery on the shoulders. With it came two black gloves and a deep red vest, with a patterned shirt. He didn't change his pants- by the time he was pulling off his shirt he was pale and tired. He didn't bother trying to hide his head, though he was ashamed of it, inside the Factory.

He didn't eat much for dinner, but he was slightly worried- he hadn't seen Mr.Wonka…Willy…for almost a day. He had disappeared into his room and Charlie didn't quite dare to go to him. He gave his mother a fond goodnight- his father had stayed outside, on business.

Charlie couldn't bear the silence that had settled over the house, the silence that seemed to be pressing down on him. He lay on his bed, fully clothed listening to the silence that screamed at him. He finally rose and, seeing that his mother was still in the room below, swung himself outside the hole in the roof, jumping easily down. He walked across the dark chocolate room and found the Elevator.

As usual Mr. Wonka had left it exactly where he would need it. He stepped inside, the glass somehow illuminated at his touch. He had only ever seen it do this under Mr. Wonka's hand, he pulled his hand away as though it had been burnt. He laid his hand on the glass again, the glass lit up so that it was coolly illuminated, like a halo around his hand.

He eventually pressed the Button labeled "Up and Out" and felt the familiar acceleration. He was glad of the light, and looked up. Since Wonka had so eagerly made a hole in the roof Charlie had not patched it up but made an exit of it. The circular hole grew larger, it had tough blue casing on the edges that flashed just as he passed the barrier. He landed it, not as gracefully as Mr. Wonka, on the roof of the factory. It pressed down on the snow and Charlie stumbled out, clutching the frame of the door for support. He walked into the small layer of snow; it was falling only slightly in the dark. He pushed his way through the snow until he got to the edge of the roof and sat, breathing deeply. He clutched the edge as a slight vertigo set in; he looked out at the city spread before him, quiet and beautiful.

He heard a door open behind him, quietly. He heard it shut again, quietly- it wasn't slammed or left to close, it had been eased back into its position. He turned to see Willy Wonka walk out of a doorway he hadn't even noticed, out of a wall he had simply walked past.

He sighed and looked down, even more conscious of the feeling that had failed Wonka. The snow flurried around him. As he shivered slightly he heard faint footsteps.

* * *

**T**hankyou for reading, please review everyone.

C. Clementine


	6. Chapter 6

**A**nd finally part 6, It's been the end of the school year around here, so life's been a bit hectic. I'm sorry about the delay and hope you enjoy it. PLease review once you've read thsi story, It's my first so I'd like any feedback. Actaully it's my second but I deleted it after one chapter.

**D**isclaimer- I take only inspiration from the movie and books, i do not own them.

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Wonka made his way up the staircase, unable to sleep. He dried a tear that seemed to have gathered round his eyes with a blue silk hankercheifand made his way up. His face was passive, though only because he didn't have the strength to change it. His polished black boots, embroidered with a red "W" made their way up and up. The staircase was not often used; he didn't know why he had ended up there. He had found the doors leading elsewhere locked, so he had passively followed the path of unlocked doors until he came to the door that opened onto the roof. He opened it with one gloved hand, and realized that it was snowing slightly. He was wearing his dressing gown and wasn't really dressed for going outside but nonetheless he plunged into the wet, cold exterior. He saw in front of him a form, it was too late to turn back and he knew Charlie had heard him come. He looked down, ashamed of the way he had behaved.

"Charlie. I've talked to your mother and Doctor Williams..."

"Yeah, I know. The twenty seventh of December. I know. "

Wonka felt like the inside of him was being dragged downwards by a hook, that Charlie could so plainly say that was beyond him. He was surprised by the fierceness in his own voice as he said,

"Charlie, it wasn't meant to be this way. It's just not right. You're meant to live on and be a successful chocolatier, then I die of old age and you get sad for a while than you live a happy life. Then you release seven golden tickets and seven more children come in, you find one who seems to shine out, who is careful and not bad, and who is nice and caring and humble. You were meant to take him in and show him your factory. Charlie, why did this have to happen?"

"Your."

"What?" Wonka stopped and sat down next to Charlie and looked at him almost angrily.

"Your. Take him in and show him _your_ factory."

"Charlie, it's yours."

"As of the Twenty Seventh of December I won't exist. I don't want you to get sad Mr. Wonka."

"Willy."

"What?" Charlie said, frowning.

"I don't want you to get sad _Willy_."

Charlie smiled and shivered involuntarily. Wonka instantly felt bad for not helping Charlie and took off his own dressing gown and heaped it around Charlie's shoulders. He continued talking to Charlie, as he was conscious of Charlie leaning into him. He put a tentative arm around Charlie , who was now almost as tall as himself.

"Everything else. Everything else I've been able to help with. I've been able to save you or tell you or something. About everything except this. Charlie, more than anything in the world…I don't want you to die."

"Look, feel this." Charlie put Mr. Wonka's hand on the roof, where snow had not built up very much and the iron could still be seen.

"It's warm. So what?"

"Your factory is warm. It's alive. It's the only place I've really lived in. I'm glad to have lived here for a short time than have lived outside 'til I was one hundred. Mr. Wonka…Willy, I'm not a kid anymore. You protected me when I needed it. Now I don't. I don't want to go either, but that doesn't help. It's one and a half weeks til Christmas Willy; I want it to be special."

Charlie leaned into the warm embrace Wonka found himself giving. He felt vaguely conscious of his bald head, it looked ugly and weird but he didn't have much choice. He realized Willy had in his hand the snowflake that he had taken, Charlie remembered him shattering it and shuddered slightly.

"Eat it, It'll make you feel better, Mr. Wonka. Willy." He added quickly.

Wonka took a tentative bite and swallowed. He smiled slightly, he did feel better. Somehow he felt better, the whirling feelings inside him simplified.

Charlie looked up at Wonka's sudden silence and knew that he was deep in some flashback. He simply leaned against Mr. Wonka's chest and listened to the faintly beating heart.

_

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Wonka strode into the Doctor's office, opening the __door with an angry crash and closing it slightly more quietly. In the dim grey-white waiting room he sat, drawing attention to himself shamelessly. He waited for the nurse to look at him enquiringly. He came to the small window; the plastic between them had only one small hole he could talk through. The Nurse frowned slightly at Wonka's blatant colorful-ness. He was in his usual red coat, which seemed to scream out at the quietly waiting patients._

"_I wish to see Dr. Williams." He said, smiling slightly. The nurse gave one nod and pointed to a door. Mr. Wonka felt indignant at simply being ordered about like that, but he made his way through the door. He sat at the seat to look up to see Dr. Williams staring at him. Wonka brushed a bit of imaginary dust off his sleeve and smiled at the old man._

"_I presume you are here about Charlie Bucket."_

"_Yup."_

_There was a deadly silence, but Wonka won as the Doctor fiddled nervously with his pen and eventually said, _

"_So what were you enquiring about? Regrettable, I know but the disease is hereditary."_

"_Regrettable? Regrettable? Is that all you can say? Just fix Charlie up. I can pay; I'll pay anything in the world. It is only you who stands in the way, Doctor Williams."_

"_I'm afraid no amount of money will help Charlie. I simply cannot help."_

"_You say that as if...there is nothing we can do. There has to be something, Doctor Williams. Anything." _

_Wonka's manner changed from angry to pleading. _

"_I can pay, Charlie just needs a drop of medicine and than it will be fine. How dare you say that Charlie will not be fine? He will be." Wonka stopped and said, slightly less certainly, "I know my Charlie and he will get better." _

"_I'm sorry Mr. Wonka, but the cancer is inoperable. I cannot do anything. Good day."_

_Wonka stayed in his chair, his pale face shaking with rage, his pearly blue eyes looking at Dr. Williams like a pneumatic drill._

"_So you mean to say that some whangdoodle of a textbook happens to state in it that Charlie can't be fixed? What small-minded people you are. Very well, Good day." He said, appearing calm but every word seemed like acid._

_He left the small office as soon as he had come, leaving the dead grey world that he had entered, certain that nothing here would help Charlie. He simply wouldn't accept that Charlie would…. He couldn't even say the word in his mind. Over time, as Charlie had helped him, he had come to be able to say 'parents' and 'family' but now he couldn't end Charlie's sentence. Somehow over the last few hours he had regarded that small phrase as Charlie's to say, not his. He silently entered the Glass Elevator and whirred back to his own world._

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Charlie woke in his own room, fully dressed in his bed. The patchy roof showed beams of sunshine making their way through, landing on the wooden floor, the old worn desk and dancing across his face. He lay there, thinking, as the sunlight danced over his face. It moved and swayed, the dappled light illuminated his tired, thing face. He lifted his arms, looking at how small they were really, and felt cautiously his own shaven head. He found himself so ugly, so weird now that he had no hair that he never considered that others might find him beautiful. He got up slowly and looked at the mirror and looked bitterly into his own eyes. He got up and turned the mirror against the wall.

Downstairs his mother greeted him with a fierce hug, whispering "my dearest boy…my Charlie…" so softly he could barely hear it. He skipped breakfast and made his way outside. It felt weird not to go to college ever again, he had left without a trace, not many people had noticed. Only his room mates felt sad.

Wonka stood in his room, looking up at the task he had devoted himself to for the remainder of the night. The sunlight now crept in through the circular windows in the roof and Wonka turned suddenly, his eyes shimmering and his top hat slightly askew. It was almost Christmas time.

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**T**hat's it for now, please review if you can.Oh, and I did promise a picture/ illustration with this chapter but unfortunatly my scanner has "issues" and needs some alone time. So i'll try to get them up with the next chapter. Thanks for reading,

C. Clementine


	7. Chapter 7

**A**nd here's the next chapter of this story, I have reduced the rating because it didn't seem necessary. I hope you enjoy.

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A silence always fell over the factory when Mr. Wonka left. He usually went out in what he thought was a disguise, or what he thought was inconspicuous. He left before Charlie was up, but Charlie knew as he woke that Wonka had gone out. It was the quietness of the Oompa Loompa's work, there was no song or busy clamour, even the air smelt less chocolaty.

Charlie ticked off another day in his calendar. After December the Twenty Seventh he had ripped the bottom part off. It left a jagged edge on that date; Charlie soon regarded that day as a strange boundary, and tried not to think about it. He had always loved the factory, but now that he had a new perspective on life he realized how lucky he actually was to live and work in the Factory. Ironically the last time he spent in the factory was also the best.

He thudded down to his mother, who was making a breakfast, she looked down at him and, more to stop herself crying, smiled. Charlie hugged her and looked across at his father, who was motionless.

"I thought I might, since Willy is out today, go outside the Factory for a little today. Just for an hour. I'll be back at ten, ok?"

His mother didn't want to say no to anything, so she just nodded once. Charlie nodded and backed out the door, uncomfortable in the sudden silence that fell upon the Bucket Family. Charlie left the Factory out of the small door next to the Chocolate Conveyor Belts, where the chocolate was given to the various buyers. He walked around the edge of the courtyard, covered now in snow, and opened the gates with a clang.

Charlie walked out and made his way down the lane, as many people began to leave for school or work. He saw some younger primary school kids and smiled at them. They moved in bunches, stopping in a group to stare at him. He wondered why and turned as they moved on. Rubbing his hands together in the cold morning air, Charlie turned past the College he had attended until his mother had cancelled his scholarship. He ran his hand down the railing fence as people moved this way and that. He almost ran into the three people standing in his way.

_What are the chances, _thought Charlie bitterly, _of coming across the three people who hate me most in the world?_

Two guys and a girl stood there, grinning in a way that made Charlie shiver. He looked at the girl, tall and thin, her name was Brianna. She looked at him like he was dirt under her foot; he looked down at the ground, unable to say anything. Brianna, Robert and John. All of them, and many others, hated Charlie for his luck.

"Hey Bucket, Where you going so fast? Back to yer friend, Willy Wanker?" said the tallest guy, Robert Finley. The others snickered. Charlie blushed and looked at the ground.

"Shut up."

"Oooh, hit a nerve have we?" Cooed Robert, stepping to the side to block Charlie.

"Leave me alone"

Robert moved forwards and shoved Charlie. Charlie was small for his age and fell to the ground, his coat got tangled and his beanie went flying. He struggled to get up but he felt a foot on his back. It was Brianna; her foot was on the back of Charlie's neck as he lay there, coughing and choking.

"Hey baldy, why so clumsy?"

He flushed redder with shame at his head, shaven and bald. He was on the verge of tears as they threw pieces of rubbish at him, laughing and shouting.

"Blaldy"

"Egghead"

These names eventually became worse ones, as Charlie lay here. He had no will to struggle.

"Faggot" at that he struggled to get up, anger now behind he fear.

"Yeha, try and get up. Go have a cry, go to Willy Wanker, why don't you?"

Charlie felt Brianna move her foot off him, he got up, weak and dizzy. He felt sick and his stomauch was hurting again. Clutching his hand to his stomauch, he walked away from the jeers and the shouts feeling warm sticky blood trickle slowly down the back of the neck. He grabbed the fence and moved slowly along his eyes on the ground. He felt his way to the familiar brick wall that ran along the boundary of the factory. He got to the gate and opened the side door. Had not the Oompa Loompas been under strict orders from Willy Wonka never, ever to leave the factory boundaries or show themselves they would have rushed to greet him, but it was not until the door closed and the window shutters pulled down and the small room was dark that they came forwards. One stood on another's shoulders and gently removed the large tatty jacket Charlie always wore outside. They sat him down, cleaned off the blood and patched him up.

Among their silent presence Charlie felt no shame in crying, as the tears ran silently down his cheeks he saw the Oompa Loompas move about. Eventually they brought him a cane, he couldn't see what it was but it felt comforting under his fingers. Leaning heavily on it he walked through the doors and into the warm factory. He was in the hallway at the entrance to the Factory. The door swung behind him as he walked. He looked around and was surprised to see no Oompa Loompas waiting behind him. He jumped slightly as he realized, behind the door was Willy Wonka, standing still. He was looking at the ground as he reached out and shut the door with a click. Charlie could not see his eyes; they were infuriatingly hid beneath the brim of his top hat. What he could see of his jaw didn't look like Wonka was happy. Charlie didn't move. In the light he realized he was leaning on Wonka's own cane, the black wood and glass knob at the top seemed to reassure him. He stood there in silence for a while until Wonka looked up, dragging his gaze from the floor in front of him to Charlie's face.

"How?"

One word, softly spoken and almost angry. All the usual joking happiness had left Wonka's face, he was deadly serious. Charlie had only seen him like this twice before, when he had fallen in the fudge mountain room and broken his wrist Wonka had risked his life to save him. The other was when Charlie told him he was going to die. Wonka took one step forwards and, as Charlie knew when Wonka was being serious he was deadly graceful. Gone was the usual swinging gait, gone was the slightly clumsy look. He straitened his back to look at Charlie, who was almost at head height.

"Some people I knew."

"Why?" again one word, his voice was not playful but deep and serious.

"My…head."

"Who?"

"Some people I know from when I went to college."

Wonka turned in a whirl of fabric, Charlie knew he was in an uncertain mood.

"Willy, I've still got your cane."

"Keep it. I don't need as much as you."

Charlie stood facing Wonka's still back, in the strange corridor that entered the Factory. He closed his eyes, the feelings whirling within him to make him feel nauseas. When he looked at Wonka he felt happy and safe, but he also felt embarrassed and clumsy. Charlie had no idea how to feel. He walked painfully in front of Wonka, and was astonished to see a tear leaking out of Wonka's blue eyes. He had never seen Willy Wonka cry.

"It's not fair, Charlie. It's just not fair."

"I know. It's not fair that I go and leave you to suffer, not fair that I get out of it easy."

"No, Charlie."

"Yes." Charlie walked up to Willy Wonka and looked down. "I don't want to leave you." He said. He cradled Wonka's face and wiped away the tear. Wonka closed his eyes and breathed slowly once more. Then suddenly, as quickly as Wonka's strange mood had come upon him it left him. He snapped up strait and made a huge grin.

"Wait 'till you see the chocolate room, my dear boy. Marvelous. Let's go!"

He said, rushing into the Elevator and holding the door open as Charlie followed, puzzled. As the Elevator entered the room from high above Charlie gasped. He pushed his hand against the glass, making small cloud where he breathed.

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**F**ind out next time what Wonka has deon to celebrate Christmas. Oh and Please, please Review, kind readers. I love reviews and criticism. Thanks for reading,

C. Clementine


	8. Chapter 8

**T**his chapter seems to be the in-between chapter to me. The end will be probably two chapters on, so it's coming to the conclusion.

**D**isclaimer- I do not own the wonderful characters of Roald Dahl's, or the characters in the 2005 CatCF movie by Tim Burton. I definetly don't own the sonnet by W. Shakespeare, wich has been taken from an anthology. I discovered it in much the same way as Charlie, in a tree, reading my the collection of Sonnet. It seemed so perfect. '

**E**njoy.

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Mr. and Mrs. Bucket marvelled at the work that had commenced since Wonka strode through the doors at exactly ten o' clock, after his absence. He had walked through the doors and clapped his hands, issuing the sharp cry that brought forth an Oompa Loompa. As the morning wore on he had watched from their dilapidated house. Oompa Loompas dressed in a pixie like uniform that seemed to startle the eye ran to and fro, carrying bauble or decoration, moving a plant or opening cages, setting more different candy animals free. Soon the air was tinted with the sound of birdcalls; the new plants seemed larger and thicker in areas. And of course, in the centre of it all rose the tree. It was easily twenty foot high, and from every point exploded colour. This was no ordinary tree. Its decorations, for one thing, moved. Hundreds of clockwork machines tinkled and intertwined, somehow silent. A train track ran around the tree, performing many impossible curves and loop, curling round the tree like a snake. Out of the tree trunk burst clockwork animals, moving and chattering. Most magnificent of all was the juggling hands. They were placed strategically around the tree, looking disturbingly like severed hands. They sat there, white and pale until Wonka, bored while waiting for Charlie to return had presented their use to the Buckets.

"Hey….Look at this" he had said to the curious people. He took one simple Christmas bauble, of the finest blown sugar and handed it too…well, the hand. The hand moved, Charlie's mother gave a little gasp as it did so and tossed it high into the air. Another hand above it caught it and threw it sideways, to yet another waiting hand which, at the last moment, caught it gently and dropped it to a hand below. Wonka loaded another and another. A green one, laced with gold. A pink one with golden stripes. A clear one with writing all over it. A creamy white one. A clear one filled with sweets.

He seemed to have many millions. The sight was mesmerizing, the little baubles moving around the tree, avoiding the moving clockwork animals and branches seemingly magically. Finally one reached the top. Wonka sat and watched it, wishing Charlie was by his side. He clicked his fingers absently and a hand stopped briefly to throw him a bauble. He looked at it, shiny and round, perfectly clear. It was crystal blue, with small white lacing all over it. He held it and looked at his reflection, bulbous in the distorted sphere. Then, looking at the Bucket crowding around the tree, gasping with delight and wonder, he absently ate the bauble. He held out the last fragment before eating it quietly.

An Oompa Loompa approached and gave some shaken signal. stood up, and followed the Oompa Loompa, taking the elevator to the entrance hall, biting his lip. The Oompa Loompa hadn't come running, so Charlie wasn't in immediate life threatening danger, but Wonka was worried nonetheless.

As Charlie saw the sight of movement around the tree beneath him he gasped, and ran out as the Elevator landed. He stopped in front of the tree.

"I…it's beautiful…"

_Like you,_ Wonka thought before once more pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind. He walked forwards proudly. He gave a secret nod to the Oompa Loompa who pulled an over-elaborate lever. Hundreds of thousands of tiny snowflakes fluttered down,settling like snow. It covered the parts of the tree that weren't moving, gathering in banks slowly on the ground. Charlie gasped.

"How did you do all this in the time I was gone?"

Wonka merely smiled. His smiles looked, to the watching Buckets, insane or slightly disturbed but Charlie watched his face passive. Inside he was watching more attentively, trying to define the feelings within him.

And so a day easily passed, Charlie wandered around the banks of the chocolate room, reading a new book his mother had given him and admiring the Christmas tree. When Wonka came upon him, several hours later he was half sitting, half lying against the curve of a Candy Cane tree some height off the ground. He was reading. He did not hear Wonka approach, he did not hear Wonka stop and look at him.

Wonka half smiled at Charlie, who had discarded his coat in the heat of the Factory, in his vest and his white shirt under it, sleeves rolled up to just past the elbows. Where there had once been slightly messy black hair his head was now bald, a fact that Charlie hated. Charlie reached up absently and plucked a small candy fruit growing there and ate it, his eyes fixed on the page.

"Watcha reading there?" Charlie looked up and smiled. He held up the leather-bound, thin book. It had a simple cover, embossed gold frame and the words "The Sonnets of William Shakespeare".

"Shakespeare? At your age? Booo-ring."

"Not really. I like them. Listen." He read out one, one of his favorites. Wonka listened, for all his bored look he felt like time had slowed when Charlie read the Shakespeare, the words falling on his ears like light rain. As the sonnet ended the sound of the waterfall and the Oompa Loompa's soft singing returned to him and he looked at Charlie's face.

"Beautiful" he said, not knowing which one he was talking about, Charlie or the poetry. Charlie self-consciously rubbed his head and swung his legs over. His shoulder was now at Wonka's head height. Wonka stood next to him, strait backed and chin high, surveying the chocolate room before him. Charlie looked around with him.

"Everything in here is beautiful. Everything is so perfect. I don't belong."

"And why not?" Wonka asked, grinning his insane grin again. Charlie subconsciously raised his hand to his head again.

"I'm not perfect in any way. My head is ugly and I haven't really done anything to be proud of."

"Firstly, your head is not ugly. Nor is any part of you. And not done anything to be proud of? Charlie look around you. Since you have come here, what changes have you made in this room since you arrived?"

"well, some of the plants have changed….The Balcony, animals….lots of little things, I guess." The Balcony had been designed by Charlie with Wonka's whimsical designs in mind. It swung from the side of one roof, almost like a spider web across a corner. It was there that Wonka and Charlie sat and talked about ideas, above the chocolate room.

Charlie sat in silence for a little, trying to bring the courage to himself to say what he meant. He finally ripped a page out of his book. He hated hurting the books he loved so much, but he knew this was important. He handed Wonka the page and walked away quietly to his house. It was perfect.

Wonka, taken aback, looked at the page. It was another of Charlie's sonnets.

LXXII

O, lest the world should task you to recite

What merit lived in me, what you should love?

After my death, dear love, forget me quite

For you in me can nothing worthy prove;

Unless you would devise some virtuous lie

To do more for mine own desert,

And hang more praise upon deceased I

Than niggard truth would willingly impart:

O, lest your true love may seem false in this,

That you for love speak well of me untrue

My name be buried where my body is,

And live no more to shame nor me nor you.

For I am shamed by that which I bring forth,

And so should you, to love things nothing worth.

Wonka read it several times, wondering what it could possibly mean. He suddenly realized as he re-wrote the section in his head, his expression changed.

LXXII- Wonka Take Two, what the sonnet seems to mean.

If everyone asks you to tell

What I was good at, why you loved me

After I die, forget me

Because you just can't prove I'm good enough

Unless you lie.

That's too much for me to accept from you

If you give some lie about how good I was

It would be a lie, and a bad one.

If your love is untrue, If it even exists

Than forget my name when I am gone

And don't be sad when I go.

For I am ashamed of my own feelings

And you should be for loving what's not worth loving.

Did that mean what the sonnet was written? Charlie had chosen one that said so much. Wonka thought about his translation, slightly less graceful than the master of word's own version. But could Charlie possibly feel like that?

He felt flustered and confused, but decided to act on it at once. Immediately he changed his mind, then shook his head and strode off purposefully in the direction of the house, but turned again as he lost his nerve. He took off his top hat and impatiently brushed off a few of Charlie's snowflakes. Lowering his eyes he read again the sonnet, it seemed more sad and beautiful that anything he had seen before.

That you for love speak well of me untrue

My name be buried where my body is,

How could Wonka forget Charlie, ever? He realized the truth as soon as it hit him. He loved Charlie; he could no longer push it away or hide it. He accepted the fact with cold reality and furrowed his brows, rubbing his eyes as he wondered what to do.

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**T**he sonnet's lines were muhc closer together in microsoft words, I apologise for the space they take up. Wonka's interpretation is not meant to be poetry at all, just stating what each line means. Thank;s for rading, please review.

C.Clementine.


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